


Two of Them

by dailydose



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Anal Sex, Multi, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailydose/pseuds/dailydose
Summary: Something happened to Allen that makes his strange arrangement with a particular swordsman... difficult.





	Two of Them

So, they fuck sometimes, adamant that the other’s merely a replacement for someone better. That was Allen’s excuse, at least. Kanda’s is a bit more flimsy. Some gentle coaxing was involved to get the other man to admit that he and Lavi had a thing, once.

Maybe it’s a sore spot of sorts. Allen would think so on account of how little Kanda enjoyed talking about it, but then again there’s not many topics he’ll carry on about with anything above disinterested disgust. Supposing that his trip into Kanda’s past was worth anything but pain in the first place, Allen wishes it had given him some insight into that psyche of his, allowed him to see the greater demons with that eye he’s cursed with. All it really did was make him feel fucked up and sad, only a portion as fucked up and sad as Kanda was.

And really, no matter how many times he tries to apologize for it, even _talk_ about it, Kanda’s a brick wall. He’d sooner fuck than fight nowadays too, and for Allen, who’s a known catholic whore, this is a problem because so would he—so nothing gets talked about.

What a mess.

Allen still recalls the first time he’d attempted some kind of beg-pardon through skin to skin contact, profoundly shocked and glad that it hadn’t gone completely pear-shaped when he found himself on his knees in front of the swordsman.

“Kanda, can I—”

“Fine,” he’d said, cutting in as quick as he does with a blade, and as Allen peered up with a hint of intrigue in his eyes, he glossed over the rising pigment in his cheeks and focused on the indentation of his eyebrows, the thinning of his lips.

Kanda’s wrists were ashiver like a pulled-taut string being flicked or strummed, like an instrument (or a weapon), and Allen sought to unsteady him further.

“Y… You’re okay with me—” “I said, _fine_,” and he uttered it as though he were dying for it to be over.

It’s a contrast to how often Kanda’s relenting to Allen’s mouth sliding onto his skin. Allen supposes it’s no different to Kanda than it is to him: a check-up, a necessary warmth.

It’s why he feels hypocritical for maybe wishing there was more than that even if he can’t follow through. Every time they unite like this, Kanda’s a poorly kept breath and a bundle of nerves being slowly unraveled only enough to make him come and never enough to keep him happy.

Allen doesn’t suppose it’d be in his wheelhouse to ever make Kanda happy. They’re just two men on the run from the order, far away from everyone that cares about them more.

When Allen lays down to sleep at night, he holds back from reaching out for the sleeping bag adjacent to his. The last time Kanda was astir with night terrors, Allen woke him to save him and realized something terribly wrong had happened inside of him some time ago.

The touch of his skin felt right and ancient. The sudden sound of Kanda’s cries, his frustrating whimpering in the dark brought to mind ugly scenes that Allen had bore witness to, not by his own volition but burned into his brain nonetheless. How often did he relive those days? Allen had no frame of reference but something magic and rare seeped into his fingertips as he pulled Kanda up from the ground and into his lap.

It was meant to be soothing. Kanda smelt of sesame and sweat, with hints of bar soap. And yet, Allen couldn’t shake the scent of blood.

Kanda fought out of Allen’s grip. Something inside of his chest snapped quietly. Allen didn’t reach out to him anymore, at least not after realizing he’d started to say, “Yu…”

So, they don’t fuck as often now, but every time itch comes to scratch Allen finds himself blacking out for longer and longer, watching as his hands make movements he’s not in total control of. They’re never in abandonment of his wishes, but they have a mind of their own and his mouth makes motions that he wouldn’t dare make mention of.

“_I love you_,” …Yu, he doesn’t say.

Never quite capable of quelling Kanda’s fire long enough to split him where he needs it, Allen is the one bottoming out most often, taking the other exorcist so deep it hurts almost. It aches, and his thighs that sting and stretch around Kanda’s much wider hips will tremble and grow weary as he spears himself down into his hips.

But now, whatever’s propelling Allen onward has the kind of confidence Kanda’s shaven out of him. He’s leaving messy red mouth-prints down Kanda’s carotid and managing to make him lose his mind. He’s silent but pliant, two things Allen didn’t think could come from him at once, but so long as Allen doesn’t disturb the silence, Kanda’s letting him grind their bodies together in new ways.

When Kanda squints up at him, hiding some of his shame behind his chopped up fringe, he’s seeing someone else. He’s no longer flinching at the texture of Allen’s dark hand. He’s got something roasting on his tongue, burning a hole in his mouth that he can’t get out when Allen smiles down at him soft.

“I’m glad I can do this,” he says, and maybe it’s because it’s so… unlike Allen that Kanda doesn’t mind.

Or maybe he can just tell who he’s looking at. Maybe Allen’s eyes have grown a pale aqua glow. Maybe he’s being burned away by the halo over his head.

Allen kisses Kanda deeply but it isn’t truly Allen and there’s something that wounds him in the process when Kanda is melting like something fragile and gentle into the motions of it all. His brain is clogging, fogging over with blood and electricity and he’s only visually coherent when Kanda moans out something artless and pure.

It doesn’t seem fair.

The moment Kanda’s muscles let go, his body unfolds, rises out of the dark water and opens lotus-like and defenseless, it isn’t to Allen. Even though his fingers are the ones sliding in to the knuckle, slick with oil and separating Kanda’s walls from each other, he’s not the one to do it.

“Finally, Yu.”

Somehow, Kanda doesn’t resist. He doesn’t even flinch.

He should. Allen thinks that he should, thinks that he should be stupefied or confused, not laid out like a freshly killed corpse for anyone to dissect.

That’s how unnatural vulnerability looks on him.

But then he says, “Alma,” and Allen’s world tilts. Kanda cries out, “Alma,” as he takes Allen inside him. Allen recalls it, Alma, _Alma Alma Alma_ and recollects with great clarity that this body is not his, but he still doesn’t know which one of them speaks when he thrusts in hard and whispers quick, “it’s _me_.”

The noise is deafening, how Kanda gulps and chokes on the name. His body ripples, voice warbling between cries and wheezes of breath, and it sounds like a nightmare. And maybe it is. This wasn’t meant to happen. Kanda’s leg is hooked loosely around Allen’s waist, his body twisted to the side as if he doesn’t want to look, as if he only wants to _feel_.

As if Allen has that choice. Not when he bears witness to how carefully, delicately Alma is gazing across every inch of skin, snaking his fingers around Kanda’s cock to stroke it loose and fast for him.

His stomach wrenches and tugs.

Kanda looks… gorgeous like this.

Hands squeezing around nothing and air and strands of his own hair, Kanda appears to run in circles before finding himself again, evident when his mouth starts to spout with ‘fuck’s and ‘shit’s and ‘god’s that invite Alma to slam into him faster. Allen winces at the effort thrown into his hips, drowning in the commingled mix of bittersweet pleasure spreading through his heart.

“_Fuck_, I’m—”

Every orgasm of Kanda’s sounds frustrated and lost. He cusses as though he’s somehow inconvenienced by getting off. It’s in the way he winces and arches his back up. Allen wants to laugh at it the way he always does. Alma speeds up his hand, the slapping sounds of their bodies together making Allen’s head spin.

“Please, please come for me, Yu. I’ll come too.”

Alma sighs in satisfaction. Kanda’s body locks up and he bites a hole in his hand hard enough to draw blood. He comes raw and fast. It clips the edge of Allen’s chin and Alma’s licking it clean, milking Kanda’s body for all it’s got in it. He tugs Allen’s cock out and finishes over Kanda’s stomach, watching as the rivulets sink into the depressions in his abs.

Taking deep breaths, they both collapse into one another. Kanda’s hands do an uncertain thing and wobble as they reach out to Allen, pulling him close and finding a place for his eyes to sit. For a time they lay patient like that, puffing up wet clouds of air and huddling into each other. When next they meet each others eyes, Kanda sees Allen.

So, Kanda lets go.


End file.
